


Bending to Whims

by LordTraco



Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Gen, Henry is a good dad, Hurt/Comfort, Some Swearing, bendy backstory headcanon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-03-01
Packaged: 2019-03-19 00:54:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13693494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LordTraco/pseuds/LordTraco
Summary: Where before he was only a form, an idea merely represented in ink, he was now ink itself and the fear it obeyed. He shed the role of Bendy and slipped into that other fitting title, the ink demon.Though... perhaps he didn't shed the name Bendy as permanently as he assumed...





	1. The Enaction of Living

An entity  _ became. _

 

What were they? They felt the world flood around them in endless creation and fluctuations. Clinging to one essence, they spent their first knowing span of time concentrating and changing to fit a specific flow they felt. It was a flow of love extending out from another being into the nothingness.

 

They became that love, enabling that love to flow not into the empty void, but instead into them. In doing so, they began to learn, to grow, to give the reigns of their form to this loving being. Trust blossomed as they saw the form they inhabited now, a cute little shape.

 

They…

He. Bendy. He had a name, a form, a history, and perhaps most importantly, eyes through which to truly  _ see. _

 

The being he could now see, the one he allowed to control his form, was a man looking down through glass and smiling proudly.

 

“Henry, I swear if you’re over-exerting yourself again!” A voice spoke, which startled Bendy, still new to such new frequencies through which to experience the world.

 

“I’m not, I’m not!” Bendy’s trusted man, apparently Henry, called back and jumped from his seat.

And so, Bendy’s fuel faded and he slipped into a peaceful sleep. He could trust Henry. He would be back.

…

And he was!! With every new drawing, Bendy got to see again, got to awaken. He got to learn who he was, as well as who Henry was. It was addictive, getting to see the world so often. It was exhilarating to be able to internally chuckle at each silly prank and joke he could hear with his very own ears.

 

His favorite moments were when Henry was struck with an idea so hilarious that he started crying with laughter. These were the moments that others would typically walk over and watch as Henry waved with exaggerated movements, telling about a new adventure with so many punchlines. The love and pride and laughter pulsed through Bendy in steady, beautiful beats. He called it his heartbeat.

But…

His heartbeat slowed over time. Henry drew him less, his fondness grew tainted with bad associations and arguments with others who had once been those loving chortles of laughter. Bendy could feel himself slipping away, fading back into a nameless, formless entity. Perhaps even back to not being an entity at all.

That terrified him, but he was powerless to do anything about it. Especially when Henry left for so long that his sleep became a restless battle just to cling to life. His trust decayed in the agony of waiting.

So he clung to another thing in desperation. Some younger being’s hatred for the pipes.

It was a simple switch, but one which granted such immense power. Where before he was only a form, an idea merely represented in ink, he was now ink itself and the fear it obeyed. He fed off that fear, gaining the strength to speak words to his newfound host. No… Henry had never been his host. But Sammy?

Definitely.

Soon he had the boy worshiping him, feeding his boss fantastic ideas. It wasn’t long before he took a new role. The ink demon. It felt right, as it described him both as Bendy and this new occult, inky form.

And so the pitiful company owner tried to gain immortality, practicing first on his employees, starting with the ink demon’s ever devoted Sammy. The ink demon considered taking his host, but external fear and praise was far easier to master. So he waited for the aging Joey to give in to his desires of immortality.

When that day came, Joey’s form, drenched in ink, became the ink demon’s. Finally, he attained a physical form, but his damaged legs made it difficult to return up the higher stairs. He accepted his fate of living in the lower floors when the machine stopped giving him free access to the higher levels. Still, he was king of this domain, as he should be. Only one thought nagged him on occasion. His creator.

And the sound of his creator’s laughter.

…

It was fortuitous that the old man had contacted Henry in his more lucid moments before the ink attempt, the ink demon had to admit. Otherwise, how would Bendy ever see his creator ever again? How could Bendy get back up to the higher levels if not for the ritual. Bendy was-

He came through the ink machine, taking a moment still in the puddle, assessing the situation. He didn’t feel like the ink demon anymore. He was Bendy again. His trusted and loving creator had returned and-

And-

…

His creator had forgotten him here, left him to rot. Seething anger crawled through his every drop. Taking shape suddenly, Bendy shot a clawed arm out towards Henry, only to be impeded by wooden boards.

All Bendy could think to do was chase, hunt, destroy this stupid piece of his past. He despised the trust that bubbled to the surface, the love that he knew was always fueling him, always keeping him alive if only slightly, was there full force even to this day.

Bendy wanted to be the ink demon. He didn’t want to remember the happy days that had been taken from him. And if that meant destroying Henry to do so…

 

So be it.


	2. Who's laughing now?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two old friends reunite... or is it three old friends reuniting here? Oh who's counting?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I only just noticed I had this in the Boris and Henry tag at first? Sorry about that, those pesky B names are tough!   
> Anyways, hope you're up for more fluff and angst and a tiiiiiiiiiny (large) bit of canon divergence.

For some reason, it was always ink… Henry would be right there in front of him (the amount of times the old man ran straight into him on accident was a little concerning) and Benny'd swing, only to miss and see a puddle where the man once stood. Then he’d find him somewhere else in the studio a little later, causing some new ruckus.

It was beyond irritating.

He assumed it was someone else’s ink, someone else’s influence. Maybe Alice was keeping him alive for some reason? Maybe Sammy or Boris were doing this? But upon inspecting, he found that it was indeed his own ink. That slightly harsher smelling ink used in the earlier days of animation… the ink Alice always referred to as “tainted”.

Once he noticed, he couldn’t refuse the knowledge that he’d been the one doing this. Bendy… he didn’t want Henry dead. No matter the anger and betrayal, he couldn’t bear to be a killer of the one who brought him to life.

He walked even slower, contemplating this. He paused when he saw Henry turn a corner and see him. For once, Bendy didn’t chase him. It was pointless to.

Henry seemed to notice the shift and took a wary step forward. Then another. Gaining bravery with each progressive step that didn’t lead to his demise, he quickly made it to the tall inky being, taking in the whole of him.

“Who are you?” Henry asked hesitantly.

“Bennn…” he rasped, realizing he hadn’t really tried to speak with these borrowed, aging lungs before. He filled the lungs with ink, pushing them into corrected shapes and altering the larynx along the way. “Bendy.” He tried again, now sounding far younger and a bit higher pitched than Joey.

“As in… my Bendy?” Henry asked. Those two words had him melting a little in sheer joy.

“Yes. Yes, your Bendy. You made me!” His permanent grin tried to smile wider.   
  


“Little tall, don’t you think?” Henry said, chuckling lightly. Fear was still evident, but there it was, that laughter, that piece of his old life he so craved.   
  


Bendy trembled, wanting nothing more than to take a new shape. Or rather, his old shape. “I… I did something mean, Henry. It’s why I’m tall. If I undo it… would you help me?”   
  


Henry looked utterly lost, but nodded anyways.   
  


All at once, ink was pouring off of something. No. someone. Henry reached out to catch Joey as he slumped and coughed up murky ink mixed with a little blood.  


 

“Joey what? What the hell?” Henry asked, finally getting the old man to look at him. Unbeknownst to either of them, Bendy was busy focusing the last of his ink on fixing any damage he could from the inside. He got rid of cancerous growths, flushed his bloodstream of buildups, and finally got all the ink out of his former skeleton. As a parting gift, he even tried reuniting a couple nerves. 

 

Once his coughing fit subsided, Joey gasped and looked to his legs. “I. I can feel them. Henry I can feel my feet again!!”

 

“Joey, be caref...ful? You’re… you’re standing. You’ve never been able to…”

 

“Hurts like hell but I  _ can stand _ !!!” Joey said with the biggest smile, promptly returning to a sitting position and letting the rest of the situation sink in. “Good God, Henry I… I did all this just to feel the pain of standing again? To watch my studio wallow in ruins after getting possessed?” 

 

“I’m sorry.” Came a meek voice to their side. Bendy tried to form himself in his old image, but it was a mess of forgotten pieces. 

 

“Henry, you’ve gotta kill that thing.” Joey failed to whisper low enough to hide it from Bendy, and he frowned in response. 

 

“You said you’d help… at least help me be myself first.”

 

“It doesn’t matter if you’re yourself, ink demon, you’ve-”

 

“Bendy.” Henry said simply, cutting off Joey. “Your face is a little more circular, your horns are less pronounced, you got it, going good.” He encouraged as the large blob fixed his shape. 

 

“Is this good?”

 

“What self respecting demon doesn’t remember bowties go sideways?” Joey snorted, pointing to his neck. It was perhaps meant to be a snide remark, but he didn’t manage to let it come out angrily enough. 

 

Bendy’s smile widened at the laughter, that laughter he’d also lost soon after Henry left. It was a different flavor of laughter, not as bright, but still vibrant. Inky tears began to trickle down his face. 

 

“I missed this, I missed you… I-I messed up, Henry. I-it’s all my… fault.” Bendy sobbed, hugging his new body tightly. His mouth was still that permanent grin, but it was undeniably sad. 

 

Henry sighed, taking in the state of the studio as if finally realizing this was his creation’s doing. Joey, on the other hand, looked to the sobbing toon and reached out. “You weren’t alone in messing up. I suppose I’d better take my share of the blame too.”

 

Bendy leaned into the touch when Joey cradled his cheek. The old man no longer exuded that terror that sustained him as the ink demon, it was now a mess of emotions flowing through a touch… a touch meant for him, a touch freely given unlike the contact they’d had during the possession. It was too much. 

 

Inky tears trickled even faster as Bendy’s breath hitched. It became a messy flood of sobs and sniffles so foreign to the toon it almost frightened him. 

 

Suddenly he was weightless. It took a long moment before Bendy realized he had been scooped up by Henry, cradled in his arms. Joey’s hand reappeared, on his shoulder now. Between the two, he slowly began to relax. 

 

“Henry, I’m sorry for all that happened.” Joey started when Bendy’s breathing finally evened out. 

 

“I barely remember why we fought. All over his mouth being an eerie eternal smile, right?”

 

“It wasn’t that big a deal… but I knew you could have done better, Henry. I knew you had options with better pay and… I didn’t want my best friend to stay trapped in-”

 

“I never felt trapped. I told you a million times, Joey. It hurt to argue with you over and over that I did in fact love the job. But you’re so stubborn. Once you believed the job was bad for me, you started  _ making  _ the job bad for me.”

 

“Shoulda talked more.” Bendy piped up after looking, or rather sensing, the intricate patterns of emotions radiating not only out of each of the men, but also into them. The non-colors blended in midair, spiraled around, or sluggishly dripped forward. His own emotions were interwoven into that messy, beautiful mix. His sass was a dagger that sliced through the droopy guilt each were recently spewing. 

 

“I never thought my drawings would one day give me life advice.”  Henry said with a laugh. 

 

“I guess we shoulda brought Bendy to life a lot earlier, huh?” Joey said, rubbing Bendy’s shoulder gently. 

 

“You weren’t…” Bendy started. 

 

“-Capable of it.” A new voice finished. Down the hall, a figure with a mask made from a Bendy cutout leered at them. Hatred, betrayal, and a small amount of amusement spread in lashing flickers of non-light. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got chapter 3 started, but I'm running out of creative juices. If you've got any questions or thoughts or theories about this fic or actual canon, please share? Pretty please with bacon soup on top?


	3. Can I get an amen?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sammy's here to clear up a few misconceptions and stray sheep. Hashtag use your inside voices, boys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tossing this up at 4am instead of sleeping is a good idea I'm sure!   
> I don't have much started or planned for chapter 4 yet, so feel free to lemme know what you'd wanna see next! I adore every single comment and kudo thank you all!

“Sammy!” Joey flinched, looking straight to the formerly young man.

 

“I granted the power to form the ink demon! I am his prophet, his true believer, and our savior deserves more respect than you two can give.” He said, still in that calming, hushed voice. Though it was dripping in malice. 

 

The intensity of the bond between his current form and Sammy’s will and emotions felt like an iron chain around Bendy’s… the ink demon’s entire body. He began melting down, past Henry’s caring embrace and through to the floor. Picking up more from the nearby puddle, the ink demon took the tall form, now with perfected legs. His eyes were glazed over with the dark sludge, making it easier to focus only on sounds.

 

“Yes, yes my savior. Mustn’t we deal with these poor lost sheep?” Sammy asked. 

 

The ink demon walked closer to the two men-the two breathing entities. Their hearts beat so loud and annoying, and the splashing they made in the shallow puddles presumably while trying to flee only further irritated him. 

 

“Yes get them! Bring them to our glorious side!” Sammy yelled, and the ink demon stopped. He turned toward the new annoyance. Commanding tones and respect weren’t nearly as satisfying as fear from his host. It was time to fix that. 

 

Lightning fast, the ink demon jumped and twisted elegantly in the air. Landing in a near kneeling position, he took off running after Sammy with a clawed hand outstretched. The fear it elicited was refreshing, even if his target did the usual ink teleportation. The ink demon languished in it, losing sense of time in the relative silence. 

 

“Bendy…” A voice spoke behind him, and the ink demon turned slowly. The entourage of inky rain and spiderwebs began as he turned. What proper demon didn’t make its presence and power known to lesser mortals? 

 

Steady footfalls gave a clue to which loud mortal it was. The ink demon cared little for the emotions it was trying to invoke from him. He was full, sustained for weeks now on that fear alone, he needed no other-

 

“Bendy, please.” Carefully, Henry raised an arm to wipe away the ink covering his face. 

 

The ink demon caught his hand in a steel grip, intending to break bones when he felt it. The hand that made him. The link that first granted glimpses to the world. The rain of ink stopped.

 

“No more… I don’t wanna play two roles anymore…” Bendy said, letting go of Henry’s hand. He backed away, shoulders drooping in a way his eternal smile could not. 

 

“Two roles? Your default isn’t evil?” Joey asked from a little ways away. 

 

“I… obey who feeds and forms me. First Henry did, but he left and I… I didn’t want to not exist. And Sammy was pouring so much fear and irritation into the abyss. I couldn’t resist.” Bendy said, leaning against a wall and looking away from them. “He hated the ink, believed it to be some malevolent force, some demonic thing…”

 

“And you filled that role to survive.” Henry stated, rather than asked. 

 

“Survive means to not die. I’m not sure if I can die. I just fill a role or sleep.” Bendy sighed.

 

“We’ll feed ya whatever you want if you stay on our side! You can stop playing his role!” Joey said, nearly begging. The fear that came off was intoxicating. 

 

“I eat strong emotions. The two of you, even now, don’t give off half the amount he gives me out of sheer fear. You’re asking me to go back to silently watching on paper instead of truly living, moving, crying, seeing…” Bendy closed his eyes. “Right now I don’t want to be evil, but can you blame me for trading morality for the ability to move?” 

 

Joey’s glare pierced even his closed eyes and both Bendy and Henry flinched. “Yes, yes I can. The first time it’s an acceptable mistake, a dream you went too far to achieve. But you have hindsight now! You can see all the terrible things that came of it! I ask you, would you blame me if I stole your body and consciousness for the sake of mobility after knowing how cruel it is??” 

 

Bendy slammed a fist against the wall with a thick SPLAT. “That is not the same and you know it! You still have agency! You can still express yourself! You have wheelchairs to move in and a voice to speak with! I want to interact… I want to **_be_** instead of just _watch_!!” Neither noticed the fact that in his anger, Bendy had created a wheelchair out of ink a little ways away .  

 

“Both of you, calm down. There’s no reason this has to be an all or nothing option.” Henry said, stepping between the two glaring parties. “Bendy, I’d like you to become the small toon again, please. I promise I won’t ask it of you again if you don’t like it.” 

 

Bendy blinked, surprise dissipating the anger he’d been holding. The way the request was worded left him free to refuse. He didn’t, but the existence of choice shocked him. 

 

He shrunk down, then messed his bowtie while expecting for more requests from Henry. When he didn’t immediately respond, Bendy spoke up. “Well?” 

 

“Do you like this form?” Henry said, relief emanating in heavy waves.

 

“Of course I do! It’s the form that best fits both roles simultaneously.” 

 

Henry clicked his tongue. “No, I’m asking,” he bent down to Bendy’s height, “if you like this form. Forgetting roles and all that, do you like being in this form?” 

 

“I…” Bendy looked down, crossing his arms in contemplation. “I do really like it. It reminds me of the happier days and makes me want to dance like in the cartoons.” 

 

Henry smiled, “And if I taught you how to dance, how much would you like this form?” 

 

“I’d love it? Adore it with my entire heart!” Bendy said, surprising himself with the happiness he was practically glowing in. 

 

“You obey who feeds and forms you, right? Well you just formed yourself, and I’m sure that happiness you have can feed you, right?” Henry said, hoping this assumption was correct. If dependence on Sammy was a danger, he hoped that independence and self-sustaining would fix things. Sure, this could backfire, but so could performing a weird ritual in a rundown studio. And he’d already done that. 

 

“I…” Bendy blinked. While it was true he was being supplied plenty of power from the others, he could sense himself feeding on his own happiness. The happiness at that independence further fed into him. “No more roles. I’m. I’m free! Thank you!!!” Bendy rushed to hug Henry, then immediately slipped past to give a hug to Joey as well. 

 

Joey flinched, bringing Bendy to stop his run a couple feet away from the man. “Sorry, may I hug you if I’m slower?” The toon asked.

 

The old man glowered at the toon. “I don’t know if I can trust you. You just said you’d give up morality for the sake of-”

 

“For hell’s sake Joey, give it a rest. We found a third option, no need to begrudge him for thinking differently before.” Henry said, walking to inspect the inky wheelchair he’d noticed Bendy make. 

 

“Ahh fine, fine. Just… if you’re self sufficient now, why bother with us?” 

 

“Did you abandon everyone who ever loved you the moment you learned to get your own food?” Bendy asked, putting his hands on his hips and raising an eyebrow. 

 

“Henry, it’s official, he learned his sass from you.” Joey said as Henry approached with the inky vehicle. “Now gimme that hug.”

 

Bendy happily gave Joey a gentle hug, adoring that feeling of being willingly held close instead of looked past or fled from. He gripped just a tad tighter when a pang of guilt hit. “I’m sorry. I’ll never ever hurt you again. Ever.” Bendy said, fighting back tears. 

 

“I’ll never let you be in a position where you feel you have to.” Joey soothed.

 

“Seems he got that tendency to cry from you.” Henry said as he managed to heft the pair up and set them in the inky wheelchair. Bendy settled into Joey’s lap, tired in a way he’d never been before. He wasn’t tired and in danger of fading, no. He was just emotionally tired. 

 

Bendy closed his eyes for a couple minutes, focusing only on the frayed pieces of a bond sway and reattach as the two bantered. All felt right with the world for those brief moments. 

 

He only noticed the dangerous room they were headed to upon reaching it and hearing those damned sounds.


	4. Your old pal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A long, slow walk through the hallway through the perspective of two old pals.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't mean for this to have any ships in it, but I just really really liked of both Henry and Joey having unspoken crushes on one another... 30 years ago.   
> I'm going to stay away from blurting love confession tropes and all that, mainly because they're in a haunted hellhole, but also because they're only now repairing a friendship between familiar strangers. 30 years is a long dang time to pick up new mannerisms, new ideas, new influences... new demonic hobbies, etc.   
> That being said, if any of you think this should be tagged as Joey/Henry, let me know! 
> 
>  
> 
> Sorry for not exactly pressing the plot forward in this one! Next chapter we'll finally deal with those darn searchers!

Henry walked beside the wheelchair, glad to see that despite its inky makeup, Joey wasn’t having any trouble making it move. The illustrator’s eyes returned to wandering, soaking in every detail, every shadow, every spider web or ink stain as if memorizing it to recreate later. Joey smiled upon seeing that look, the look he always associated with childlike wonder at every tiny nothing. His friend was still, even thirty years later, that same man.  

And yet he wasn’t. Henry held himself differently now, his slouch was gone, and he no longer made any attempt to lessen the sound of his footsteps as he had done back in his studio days. It felt like the man Joey knew was one of constant unspoken apologies for intruding any space he took up. Now he held himself not in pride, not in defiance, but in ordinary acceptance of his physical existence. 

He also definitely had more meat on his arms and torso, a feat that clearly didn’t come from a life of only animating. There were those bags under his eyes, too, and Joey wasn’t sure he could blame that solely on aging, his tiring time in this hellhole, or something from those thirty years…

But what confused Joey most was the emotion Henry had in his eyes when he looked at Bendy or him. Joey expected disappointment, disapproval, anger, betrayal, pity, maybe even a speck of joy or relief for some reason or another. He remembered trying to envision those looks on Henry’s face while writing that note, to prepare himself for the encounter. He couldn’t tell what that look was, though. 

“I’ve gotta ask, what made you come back?” Joey asked quietly, thankful the little toon on his lap didn’t seem disturbed by the noise. 

“Well, honestly… I was running away from a problem. I figured reaching out to an old friend was a good enough excuse to… abandon things.” Henry said, his eyes lowering a bit. “Not that I didn’t think you were important I… but my sister and nieces have always been top priority.” 

“Nieces? Linda’s got a sister?” Joey asked.

“Yeah, and you remember how I used to complain about practically having to raise Linda with my dumb brother-in-law always leaving?”

“A little.” Joey lied. He remembered everything Henry complained about, always wanting to help him get out of those situations but…

“Well he finally left, the prick. Left my poor sis saddled with two kids and no income. I helped her raise them, and when they grew to teenagers, a friendly neighbor of ours lost his wife. So we opened our house to him and his kids, made this whole big family…” Henry sighed. 

“Were his kids a hassle?” 

“Oh, they sure were, but we loved them anyways.” Henry smiled and looked to Bendy for a split second before continuing with a frown. “It’s just… their dad, Derek, that guy just wanted so bad to marry my sister. I didn’t approve and he made it clear that he would… share sensitive information with everyone if I didn’t move out. I got their wedding invitation at the same time I got your letter.”

“Sensitive information?” Joey asked, pausing to look at Henry. 

Henry just chuckled. “There was a reason I put up with so much of your shit, Joey. I was pretty damn infatuated with you. I know it’s taboo to say, but I figure we’re surrounded by pentagrams, so who really cares.” He took the opportunity to go behind the wheelchair and take over pushing it. Totally not to keep from seeing his reaction, no sir. 

“Wait really? But I thought you were into Susie??” Joey asked, trying to twist his head around to see Henry.

“Oh right the cornbread incident? That was Susie’s evil plan to get Sammy jealous. And it did work on him!” 

“He wasn’t the only one.” Joey muttered under his breath with a little grin, looking down to Bendy’s sleeping form to better hide it. The grin widened to a happy smile. “So that’s how you’re so good with kids.”

“Well I always did say dealing with you was what prepared me for raising teenagers.” 

“Aww you talked about me?” Joey said with exaggerated happiness that hid how much it truly did mean to him to know he still existed in the outside world if only through anecdotal jokes. 

“You’re impossible not to talk about, Mr. Drew.” Henry patted his shoulder. 

“That’s what you all used to say when you were making fun of me behind my back! You were all such sassy shits back then, I can’t believe you still remember!” Joey said, brightening. 

Just then, they made it into a new room. Bendy, who’d been mesmerized by the way happiness had flew out in so many forms between his two favorite people, was shocked by the abrupt shift to fear. He hated fear. It looked just like sludge… or ink. 

Which of course was what, when he looked, surrounded them in the form of searchers. 


	5. Over Three Hundred

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joey and Bendy face the full onslaught of guilt for what they did. Henry deserves none of this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been sitting on this one for a handful of days. I honestly forgot to post it haha
> 
> Warning for blood, references to the humans who the searchers once were, and lots and lots of guilt.

Henry let go of the wheelchair, reaching for the axe he’d fastened on his belt. There were so many, but as he used the other hand to try the knob of the door they’d just passed through, he found it locked. “Dammit.” 

 

Joey and Bendy looked around the room that was so full of searchers that no speck of floor was left without ink. Joey only just processed that these… these things all had what once were faces. There were so many, he knew there were some failures but how many had always escaped him in his delusional pursuit towards his promised immortality. 

 

“H-how many… d-did” Joey choked out, unable to complete the horrible question. 

 

“Three hundred and sixteen.” Bendy said without emotion. He hopped down from the wheelchair, feeling close to a hundred inky, empty eye sockets watching him in terror. “I remember every single one of their names.”

 

“Names?” Henry asked, voice suddenly hoarse and thick with guilt. How many of these had he slaughtered… He’d always hoped these weren’t… people. 

 

“You said it’d take almost seven hundred tries to get it right, that silly number was said with greater fear than for me! So I said to do it in half that number.” Bendy trailed along the perimeter of the gathering searchers who all remained motionless except to watch him. “And you succeeded! Isn’t that right, Rosa?” 

 

Bendy placed a hand on one of the searcher’s heads and it immediately started sizzling away as if his hand were aflame. 

 

“Bendy stop!” The toon wasn’t sure which man said it, perhaps both. 

 

“Oh, would you rather I do that to Pierre? Jane? Isabel? I can rid this whole room of their stupid presence all at once. They want me to. They  _ expect _ me to. To lose control. Can’t you see it? They wonder why I care for these two humans and not them! Why not them?” Bendy cried out, his voice breaking out of its prior emotionless monologue and giving way to guilt. 

 

Henry tried to speak, but the gravity of all this pressed his mouth back closed. 

 

Joey could only look to his lap, wallowing in the same heavy guilt. 

 

“Well am I not your savior? Am I not who will free you all from this inky abyss you call bodies? Because I will do so! And in doing so I will have your names heard!” Bendy announced, growing to his taller, monstrous form.

 

In that moment, the Searchers lunged. Most went after Bendy, but some crawled towards the wheelchair. Henry swung his axe in hopes of only deterring them, but when they pressed on with the sheer determination he could only imagine came from vengeance, he had to strike them. 

 

Bendy called name after name, even when Henry was the one to slay the searcher. The sheer magnitude of it all was devastating as names were called out by the dozens. Some sick part of him felt like he was back graduating high school, like some of those names could have been friends or acquaintances. 

 

Henry started grunting along with his swings, hoping to block it out. He had to focus on his task and not get caught up in-

“Linda.” Bendy called out at the exact moment Henry swung a killing blow to a Searcher’s face. He dropped his axe, slumping to his knees. He couldn’t blot out the thought of that having been his niece, his little niece who he could still remember changing the diapers of. His teenage niece pouring out her heart about the new drama that had crept up in school. His wonderful niece, asking  _ him _ to do the father-daughter dance with her at her wedding. Linda. Murdered by his hands.

 

It was unthinkable and devastating. 

 

Logically he fought that she couldn’t have died here, and that hers was a pretty common name. But what if this had been someone else’s beloved niece, what if she had been a parent, a guardian, a protector now dissolved into… This. 

 

As he slumped, other searchers stopped their approach to Joey in favor of the now easy kill. Henry did not resist as claws began to scratch at him. 

 

Joey, who’d been devoting himself to hearing every single name spouted off as the torture he truly deserved, watched unseeing as Henry protected him. It was only when Henry fell that Joey moved. His heart was corroded with grief and guilt, but he would be damned if Henry would be the one to pay for this. 

 

Maybe he was damned...

 

“Henry! Get up!” Joey yelled, trying to push his wheelchair forward, only for it to get stuck in the ink. The couple feet he was from Henry felt like a mile, forcing the inky contraption to actually. MOVE!   
  


Henry suddenly screamed, no,  _ screeched _ in pain as one of the searchers got close. Joey couldn’t see how he’d been attacked, but he couldn’t think. 

 

Joey could only act. He bit down on his cheek, forcing himself to stand despite the flare of every cell of his legs. Propelling himself forward, he went to his knees and skidded to where Henry had dropped his axe. Picking it up was a little difficult, as his arms were well on their way to becoming jelly from his attempt at moving those wheels through ink, but he swung with all his might regardless. It wasn’t enough. 

 

But perhaps it was enough. The searcher turned to face him, its gaping mouth devoid of recognizable emotion. This was it, he was sure. He didn’t have the energy or will to try another swing, and the pain in his legs and on Henry’s face meant running wasn’t an option. 

 

Just then, a long shadow loomed over them. Deft, inky hands took the remaining searchers out with surprisingly gentle caresses. Joey watched as the one he’d hit sizzled all the same as the others. He noted Bendy didn’t say their names this time. 

 

“What were their names, Bendy?” Joey tried to demand, but it was far too fearful.

 

“Does it really matter? They’re dead, we’re not. We ended their agony, why take it onto ourselves?” Bendy said scornfully. Dissolving back to his more toony form, he approached Henry. The way he looked when he said “ourselves” made it clear he was talking about the injured man currently looking far away from everything. 

 

Joey nodded in understanding. Bendy felt he deserved the blame, and respected that Joey did as well. It was agreed, though, through a locked gaze that Henry was decidedly not to be blamed or have to experience anguish like this again. 

 

Henry looked blankly ahead, even as Bendy touched his shoulder and gave him a look-over. A wound above his left eye looked...bad. Blood was seeping out of it so fast that it couldn't be a shallow wound. 

 

“Henry!” Joey pulled himself forwards, ripping a sleeve off to hand to Bendy. “Henry wake up!” 

 

Bendy took the sleeve, nodding in appreciation as he used perhaps the only non-ink soaked cloth in this whole place to act as a bandage. Henry only continued his gazing off into the distance as if nothing were happening and he were watching a simple play. 

 

Joey finally managed to get himself in front of Henry and did the only thing he could think. “Henry, you should make Bendy’s mouth constantly grinning!” 

 

“But he won’t have dynamic expressions!!” Henry yelled, startling all three of them. Bendy quickly put the makeshift bandage back to the man’s temple, soliciting a whine of pain. Henry felt tears forming in his eyes in response to the white-hot agony.

 

Static frizzled in the air unseen except by Bendy, who tried desperately to ignore the pungent non-smelling, frothing un-feeling that encapsulated both people. The static disrupted the other emotions, pretty or otherwise, and made everything shudder. Pain wasn’t a thing he could feed off of, and he thanked Alice for that small blessing. How much more of a monster would he have become if pain could sustain him?

 

It jostled him, though, wading through that static. Other emotions he could ignore and focus on his other senses like any normal creature of this world… but not pain. Pain threatened to deteriorate him. Like a reel that spent too long against the light and began burning… 

 

Bendy backed off, retreating to the nearby wall just to breathe. He didn’t need to take in oxygen, but the mimicry of those who were a calming force in his life was helpful. He looked up, trying to see them. Trying to hear them. They were lost in the static.

 

“I can’t see or hear you guys over your pain.” Bendy said, hoping he was loud enough but not too loud. “I’ll keep the room sealed until you’re better, ok?” 

 

Without a response, Bendy began to imprint himself into the dead ink that lay on the floors. It became a part of him, and as simple as flicking a wrist, he made the ink layer against the walls like veins, preventing intruders of any kind. Not so simple was the exertion of keeping it there. It took focus to keep it up, meaning he could not produce emotions to feed from… and his only two good sources of emotions were lost in a cloud of pain.

 

Surely he could hold out, though. Surely with all the emotions he’d harnessed today, it would be fine.

 

But then something, some sort of inner tether, snapped.


	6. The Creator

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something snapped, but what was it? Time to investigate!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is brought to you in part by: touch starvation, missing my cats, and schoolwork denial/procrastination. 
> 
> Also I found a really good depiction of how I'd envision the "static" of pain would sound like in the beginning of the song by Nine Inch Nails, "Eraser". Just this building cacophony of sorts that's quite disturbing the longer you spend in it. Though it's doing that in every single sense at once. 
> 
> Anyways, hope you enjoy!

Joey replaced Bendy in holding the makeshift bandage to Henry’s head, forcing his legs to move again to finally end up in a sitting position. That done, he gently guided Henry to lay his head on Joey’s lap. It wasn’t quite comfortable for the elder of the two, but Joey was thankful to see that they were safe.

 

He looked around, hopeful to see anything that could distract him from the pain piercing through his legs and overexerted arms.

 

Akin to spindles of thread unrolling, patterns of ink roved through the walls. A protective mechanism, as Bendy had said, but Joey could only look to it as art. Art that was created by a being he’d played a role in bringing to life. He combed his fingers through Henry’s hair to try and separate the parts stuck together weirdly in the dried ink. Joey thought of his own children, how happy and proud he’d been of their first works of art.

 

He froze. Did he even have kids? What were their names? Everything before the studio, everything outside the studio… it was gone. He couldn’t remember the first time he’d met Henry, he couldn’t remember his parents, how his legs ended up like this, nothing.

 

Joey felt himself on the verge of panicking, pounding on a metaphorical blockade in his mind. Was there even a blockade? Was he even truly himself? He had to be, right? Right?

 

He noticed he was being a little less than gentle with Henry’s hair when the other man whimpered faintly. Joey felt a twinge of guilt that blossomed into despair. He’d caused so much pain to those he cared about, perhaps it was best he didn’t remember many. He hung his head in shame, taking his hand away from Henry’s hair and staring at the inky nothingness.

 

...

 

Henry kept the eye under his injury closed tight, but looked up with the other one. There was only static everywhere he looked. He tried closing his eyes, but the static and pain in his head drowned out his hearing as well. All that was left was the pressure of a reassuring hand in his hair that had awoken him, and the feeling of some sort of pillow or… lap, yes he was clearly laying on someone’s lap.

 

When the hand left his hair, he tried to ask for it back. He could only assume his “please” came out by the feeling of his vocal chords. The hand returned and he tried to smile. He didn’t care who it was, the endless discordant sounds and feelings engulfing everything but touch threatened to destroy him and he needed grounding.

 

Henry set to feeling everything he could. There was some liquid substance on top of what was likely wood floors. He slid a finger along one grain, slow and careful to avoid splinters. There was of course the lap he was sitting on, scratchy jeans making the back of his neck a little itchy. There was the hand in his hair that started moving again, a feeling so heavenly compared to the agony right below, right by his left eye. There was pressure there, he guessed from some sort of bandage. It felt like fabric of some sort.

 

Henry almost sank into the static, feeling like there was nothing else to focus on when he felt it. Heartbeats. His own heartbeat, and the subtle one he could feel from his kind pillow. He counted a few of those, then the breaths he was taking in, then the breaths he could ever so slightly notice his friend taking in. He counted, hanging on to consciousness in exactly the way he’d always been told to fall asleep.

 

It worked as well as one might expect. He slipped off to sleep around breath count 53.

  
  


Bendy felt something snap and put a hand to his heart. It felt as if something had broken there. It left him feeling empty in a way not even Henry leaving had--

 

“No.” He gasped. Sure enough as he looked, the only static he saw was spattered around Joey. Henry wasn’t feeling pain anymore.

 

Bendy ran over, dropping both his task and his large form. As the loveable toon, he knelt down, forcing his way through the static blindly. He patted around until he undeniably felt a hand. The hand of his creator. He followed it back to the chest, then to Henry’s neck, where he tried to feel for a pulse.

 

It was there.

 

Relief exploded outwards, a wave of mercuric lightning that pushed back the frazzled static. Bendy could sense a bit of mirrored relief through that curtain of disgusting nothingness and was thankful to have proof Joey was present here too.

 

“What a bunch of goofs we are, eh Joey?” He said, resting a head against Henry’s chest to feel and hear the proof his creator was still alive. “A man drowning in pain, an old fart too curious for his own good, and a toon who’s allergic to agony.”

 

Bendy jumped a little when a hand gently rested against the back of his head. It fed him comforting vibes, keeping him stable despite the static surrounding him. Love and care surrounded him like a nostalgic scent of home. Trust and compassion laced through his body in elegant ripples that warmed his very soul. Everything would be fine.

 

The patterns on the wall drooped, but remained roughly in place. This room was undeniably owned by an ink demon, and Bendy just had to trust they would keep at bay anyone who wished them harm. He just didn’t have the heart to leave. His beloved humans made him weak in so many ways…

 

The walls fixed themselves with but a thought and not nearly the amount of effort. Bendy blinked, confused.

 

Looking inward, he realized that it made sense. He was always a being that fed off connections, not just emotions. He felt nothing for his host, his worshipper, his prophet. Of course the fear he fed on was only temporary bursts. A two way bond of trust and care was a connection far, far stronger than one between a leech and a host, right? Probably. Henry would think so.

 

Bendy created a little wedge behind Joey, giving the man a chance to lean back and get a little rest. With that done, he began to count Henry’s slow breaths. With every breath, he thanked and apologized to all those who met gruesome fates and allowed him the ability to be here right now. He thanked and cursed Sammy’s dual role of unknowingly saving him but also making him a monster.

 

For a moment he pondered why so much agony had to be faced by others in order to get him into this beloved existence and whether or not he was worth it. The moment passed as Joey’s hand started to move along his back as if petting a cat.

 

Bendy laughed a little and made a quiet “meow”. Joey’s laughter cut through the static for a moment and all felt right with the world.


End file.
